


Lost and found

by Paralelsky



Series: The lost wizard [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paralelsky/pseuds/Paralelsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and his group kept running into this lone survivor and his dog. Maybe it was time to add one more to their group?<br/>Set in the Winter between Season 2 and Season 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: canon level violence and gore (just a tiny bit), and the author's poor attempts at trying her hand with Daryl's way of speaking. Please don't shoot me! Also written and posted immediately, before I changed my mind.

The house looked largely untouched, which was probably both a blessing and a curse. A house not ransacked usually was crawling with walkers, but they also had the chance of finding more supplies in it. They had no choice, they had to risk it.

Rick moved slowly, trying to make no sound while approaching the steps. On his right, Daryl prepared his crossbow, body tense and ready to run inside, while behind them Glenn was gripping his baseball bat with white-knuckled fingers. Rick risked a glance behind him, catching the sight of his son gripping his gun like a lifeline. Carl looked too nervous for Rick's peace of mind, but this wasn't the first house they had cleared that day. So far, nothing had gone wrong.

_One, two, three_ , he counted in his head, took a deep breath and then pushed the door open, gun ready in front of him. Immediately his group, took point near him, then moved silently from one room to another. They cleared the floor, strangely founding no walkers. Yet, just when Rick took one stair the tell-tale sound of a cocking gun froze him. Up there, behind the banister, a man had his gun aimed at his group, twitchy finger ready to fire.

"Whoa," said Glenn stopping in his tracks just as Daryl came from a nearby room and aimed his crossbow immediately at the newest threat.

They were at a standstill, neither part willing to back down, with the stranger never taking his gun from Rick's direction.

"Lads, I'm afraid this house is taken," the stranger spoke softly, British accent coming as a shock to those below him.

"Look, you don't have to do this," said Rick while trying to sound as placating as possible. He was well aware that he, and his group looked like death warmed over after the latest run with a herd, and thus very unlikely to inspire confidence, but they were all very tired. They needed this house, everyone in the group dead on their feet.

_And especially Lori. His estranged, heavily pregnant wife, Lori._

There was no other shelter for miles. He knew; they checked.

The stranger snorted briefly, probably knowing that. "And what do you propose?" he asked, somewhat mockingly. "Also, tell your man to lower his crossbow unless you want me to start firing."

"Share. We want to share the house. You can have the floor and we'll take the ground."

The stranger stood silent for a moment, never lowering his gun. "How many are there in your group?"

Rick bit his lip, trying to find the right answer. It sat badly with him to give that kind of information, but the stranger was going to find out anyway. Unless they killed him first, as a tense Daryl on his right was itching to do. The hunter had lowered the bow slightly, at Rick's short head-shake, but Rick had never seen anyone aim and fire more quickly, if needed to be. No, Rick had perfect confidence in his right-hand man.

"Ten," he stopped and swallowed, "we…" but never got the chance to speak when with a frightened "Daad!" Carl burst into the hall and collided with Daryl, while going backwards. Behind him, a powerful growl had the hunter scrambling up and ready to fire when from above the stranger commanded. "Stop!"

He hadn't yelled, yet the word had reverberated through the house and at once the growling ceased, and an enormous black dog emerged from the shadows.

"You have children, with you. Why the bloody hell you didn't say that?" The stranger asked Rick with such exasperation in his tone; Rick was thrown. However, more telling was the dropping of his gun, no longer pointing at Rick's head.

"What's that thing?" Daryl muttered, looking ready to shoot, while the dog watched them all with eerie grey eyes, almost luminous in the fading light.

"My dog, Sirius." The stranger said, voice calm, then he addressed Rick.

"You can take the house," he said as he started to descend the stairs. "At one condition."

"Name it." Rick said, not committing to anything.

"I leave with my dog, and you don't put a bullet in my back when I'm out." The stranger had stopped moving and was now, two stairs up, looking Rick directly in the eyes. Only then did Rick realize just how young and emaciated the stranger looked. Something, perhaps a dreg of pity stirred in his hardened heart. He might not share his supplies with the stranger, but he could still not send him out there in the encroaching night while walkers roamed the surrounding forest and there was no other house for miles.

"Or you could accept my earlier offer and take the upstairs part, while me and my group sleep here." Rick said his counteroffer. Beside him, Daryl scoffed, but had more sense than to correct him in front of the stranger. Glenn, however, looked ready to bolt, shooting glances from Rick to the stranger, but kept his mouth shut and Carl just seemed confused by it all and maybe a bit uncomfortable by the big dog only a few feet away from him. Rick too, was worried, the beast taller than his boy was, but for one, the dog was calm and quiet watching over all with disturbingly intelligent eyes. And Rick had the certainty then and there that it was no ordinary beast.

And the stranger had yet to answer him, looking at Rick with guarded eyes that hid too much for the sheriff's comfort.

"Alright," he eventually nodded and then turned slightly as if to climb the stairs again. "But my condition still stands. Nobody shoots at me or my dog." And with it he started to climb the stairs. Immediately the dog moved, agile and silent, not touching any of them despite the crowded space, and then it bounded up the stairs and stopped at the top to wait for its master.

"Why would we want to do that?" Glenn asked, only half sarcastic.

"You'd be surprised," the stranger answered from top the stairs. "Some think he should be food, but for most he took exception when they were trying to go through my things." And with that parting shot the man entered a room and softly shut the door behind him leaving Rick and his group to wonder what the hell exactly happened.

XXX

In didn't take long for the rest of the group to filter inside the house, their sighs of relief quickly quelled when they took a look at the men's faces. None of them looked happy, but not quite on the edge and Hershel 's eyebrow shot to his hairline when Rick told him what had happened.

"You are sure that was wise?" he asked Rick, voice soft that it didn't carry off the women and children gathered around a flimsy fire. He had hunted down Rick as soon as possible and then got the whole story from the man.

"It just seems like the right call at the moment," Rick acknowledged, voice soft from fatigue. He was as tired as he looked and Hershel almost felt sorry for pressing the matter when the man clearly needed to go to sleep. "I'll put T-Dog on first watch and take over him in a couple of hours."

Hershel nodded and let it be. Strangely, he still trusted Rick, even when it was visible for all that the man was slowly crumbling under the responsibility. But it would have to do for now. No one was in better shape.

XXX

Rick spent the night tossing and turning, too exhausted to sleep, but also not awake enough to do anything else. From upstairs there was no sign all that time, and if it weren't for the closed door, Rick could have forgotten that they shared the house with anyone else.

It was almost morning when Daryl stirred under his poncho and then jumped awake seeing the man from last night immobile near the front door, big black dog glued to the hip.

"I'm going now," he said softly, as if not to stir the still sleeping members of the group, and when Daryl just relaxed slowly he moved silently and was out of the door in an instant. Daryl covered his mouth with is hand, indecisive whether to go after the stranger or to go wake Rick, when Rick's soft voice came from a shadowed corner. "Let him go."

"Ya sure that's wise?" Daryl asked, but lowered his crossbow. he hadn't noticed that he had it ready to fire.

"I've been watching him ever since I saw him leave the room. He didn't do anything threatening."

Daryl relaxed a bit, then he gathered some scattered arrows and he too moved to the door. "I'm going hunting. Any preference?" he smirked towards Rick, who smiled weakly. "I don't know. How about squirrels?"

With a nod, the hunter was out and Rick was left to quietly contemplate his group and the best move for them. By the time Daryl had moved outside, there was no sign of the stranger, not even tracks. Impressed, despite himself, Darryl prepared his crossbow and went into the woods. He had some rodents to find.

XXX

"We have got to stop meeting like this," said a soft voice behind him while the unmistakable shape of a shotgun prodded him at the head. Rick slowly raised his hands and then pivoted until he was looking his captor in the eyes. Yep, same kid with the huge black dog, dirty clothes and too old eyes. Then again, they all had too old eyes nowadays.

"Unless you're going to shoot me, I suggest pointing that gun somewhere else," he replied, letting his hands fall, and the kid gave him a rueful grin. "So, same arrangement as the other time?" the stranger asked, looking at the room they were in, but never completely taking his eyes off Rick.

Rick almost nodded, then he grimaced remembering that the shack only had one floor. The roof had looked caved in from outside, but it was still better than camping in their cars. Again. The fuel was getting dangerously low, and the night was too cold to go without a fire.

"Tell you what." He said eyeing the stranger and making a decision he prayed didn't doom them all. "You can take a corner of the room, and we'll take the rest, as long as you never let your dog come too close to my people."

"And nobody gets shot?"

"And nobody gets shot." Rick agreed.

"Fine by me," replied the stranger and then went and settled against the north corner, where a pile of rags was already spread across the floor. For the first time since seeing him again, Rick wondered if the kind was following them, then dismissed the thought as paranoia. After all, they had stumbled upon him, both times.

One more thing was left to do before calling his people in the big room that will shelter them for the night. "Hey kid, what's your name? Mine's Rick." He said, not moving from the door. The stranger didn't answer while he was busy arranging his rags into something more comfortable and then with a sigh he settled on the floor, shoulders leaning against his sitting down dog. "It's Harry," he said eventually, and then settled and pretended to fall asleep, curled around his dog.

Rick nodded, knowing that despite all pretenses, Harry was still observing him and then got out to gather his family, plans half-formed in his mind.

If they were surprised to see another person in the living room while they came burdened with their packs, none commented too much, one look at Rick's 'I'll explain later' face stopping them from questioning it aloud. Only Daryl muttered a "Son of'bitch" and then chose the corner that put him somewhat between the stranger and the rest of the group, crossbow resting deceitfully on his elbow.

Once they were more or less settled, Rick cleared his voice and got all of their attention. "Everyone, that is in the corner is Harry and his dog, Sirius. Don't bother him and he won't bother us. Understand?"

Most of the adults just nodded or shrugged. Glenn kept sending furtive glances in the corner, while the Carl and Beth kept peering at the stranger with curiosity. For his part, Harry didn't say anything, or acknowledge them in any form, but Sirius perked his head at the use of its name, tail thumping once against the wall, then he settled down once again against its master. Other than that, their corner was completely silent for the rest of the night. Rick would know; he was up even when he knew he should have been asleep, but he also knew that he wasn't the only one doing that. From the quiet shuffling from Daryl's corner, it was clear that the hunter hadn't slept a wink as well.

When the morning came, bright and early and completely unsuited for the Apocalypse or maybe just for Rick's tired eyes, Harry rose from his corner, gathered his things in complete silence and with careful moves maneuvered into the room until he was at the door.

"Going to meet you group?" Rick asked, eyes half opened and hand resting on his holster.

Harry just threw him one loaded look, as if telling him 'I know what you are doing, so you can stop', but eventually answered, hand already on the door. "I don't have one." He then almost opened the door, when Sirius gave a low growl, body suddenly alert, ears pointed at the door. The change in Harry was immediate, crouching down, with wicked daggers suddenly in his hands.

"What is it?" Rick whispered harshly, gun out in one hand while in the other, he took his knife. With the corner of his eye, he spied Daryl, awake and tense, waiting for his signal, T-Dog still fighting with sleep but waking up and Glenn looking just dazed.

"The undead, coming in this direction from the woods. Small group, maybe ten, fifteen."

"You saw all that?" Rick asked, impressed despite himself while around him, the group awoke, keen survival instincts telling them something was happening.

"No, Sirius told me." Came the reply that gathered more than a few raised eyebrows.

"Ya speakin'dog now?" Daryl drawled while taking point at one of the windows overlooking the front porch. He raised his head and then ducked immediately.

"No, I just know him really well." Harry answered gripping the daggers more tightly.

"Daryl?" Rick asked, while around him, his people gathered their things as quietly and quickly as possible.

"He's right, no more than fifteen geeks out there, but they're coming between the cars."

"If they don't sense us, maybe they will go away." Glen whispered from somewhere behind Rick, while Maggie just gripped her riffle. Everyone else had taken some position, ready to sprint for the cars. They had done this more times than anyone wanted to remember, and Rick was somewhat proud that he didn't have to tell them what to do.

They stood in silence, body brimming with tension and fear for an eternity, or more exactly fifteen minutes, until the small herd weaved their slow path around the parked cars, some walkers mouthing at the windshields before giving up, as if chasing some elusive scent, and then they flitted away. All of them waited some more, but it looked like the danger had passed. Slowly, releasing some of the tension that they all carried, they started to move to the door when with a loud snap, a cord broke and everything it was holding together fell down with a deafening clatter. They turned as one, seeing Beth with a stricken face while she mouthed "sorry", when with a loud crash a large window to their right fell to pieces as walkers, attracted by the noise, started to pour in. And as soon as they smelled the humans they got more frenzied, to the point everyone knew they had to run.

"To the cars!" Rick yelled and then yanked the front door open and almost smacked himself with a walker's outstretched hand. He ducked below; moving his hand automatically to stab the walker in the head, when something whooshed by his ear and with a wet plop a second walker fell down never to rise again. Beside him, Daryl ran, snatched his arrow and stabbed a third walker while gunshots suddenly broke the morning silence as the group ran for safety. Rick got into his car, started the ignition, frantically counting all from his group as they climbed into cars and only when they started to roll, he saw Harry running on foot towards the forest, Sirius at his heels. One walker got in his path only to be dispatched with efficient ease, dagger in and out its eye in an instant, and the boy continued running.

It was then that Rick took the decision that one day would save them all. He stopped the car near the still running Harry and opened the door.

The end.

 


	2. Chapter 2

At first, he thought there was no magic in this world where Death had thrown him in.

And that had felt too cruel of a punishment for showing up at the Station in-between worlds way ahead of schedule, like a very displeased looking Death had put it while staring down his dead body. The second shock had been when she told him that there was no spiritual train ready to take him on the other side. In fact, there won't be any train for him, ever, and if he had stayed and grown very old in his own world like a good Master of Death should, he wouldn't have found out that little tidbit for a very long time.

But it wasn't as if he had woken up that morning and decided to take his own life. At thirty one, he was that star Auror of the department, married with three kids, one just a toddler; and life had been good. However, when a dark wizard had decided to unleash the equivalent of an atomic bomb of black magic in the middle of Diagon Alley, in full daylight, and the only solution to contain it had been an untested shield from the Department of Mysteries that three wizards had to power up with their life-forces, the choice had been fairly obvious. And maybe he had never grown up from his saving people thing, but he had never thought that his live was more valuable than that of three of his subordinates, especially when he had the necessary power to maintain the shield without involving others. Harry had just known he was the one to do it. And if he got blown into minuscule pieces during the process, at least he had died as he had lived, as a true hero.

Not that any of that placated Death's rants at his stupidity. Or made the choices he had any better: to stay in the in-between for all eternity, or go and live a new life in a world of Death's choosing. She had even sweetened the deal by promising him a companion, at which point he had thought of only one person he had ever felt sorry for not spending enough time with.

And as the shadows coalesced into the familiar dog shaped version of his godfather, Harry had asked almost fearfully, "Is it really him?"

"It is as close to him as one could be without actually dragging his soul from the afterlife," Death had answered, watching him with shrewd eyes. "His death has left a much larger spiritual imprint, from his falling into the Veil, and the rest it's just your memories of him."

And then Harry looked into the dog's much too intelligent grey eyes and understood. It wasn't entirely his godfather in there, but it was too much of him to let it dissolve once again in the shadows.

"I'll go to where you sent me," Harry had finally answered after a long time of being silent.

_After all, how bad it could be?_  He thought before letting Death's spell send him and Sirius away.

So, devastatingly weak and bone tired when he had finally woken up in a someone's backyard, he hadn't been able to summon even a low level "Lumos", something he dwelled too much on, for all the wrong reasons, so it stood to reason it would take him a ridiculously long time to realize that every time he had truly wished for something, that something would be in his reach fairly soon.

Like that time when he had been truly hungry only to stumble an hour later upon a house un-looted, where the Pantry still had a variety of canned goods and unopened sodas. Or that time when he had wanted for protection and minutes later a fully fitted kit of throwing knives – sharp, and perfectly balanced, and probably the only weapon Auror training had made him proficient with – had almost fallen into his lap from where their previous owner had carefully stashed them before the Outbreak.

Or that time when he had to only wish himself and Sirius invisible, and they had been able to walk beside a herd without any of the walkers even twitching to their presence.

He hadn't asked for companionship when he had stumbled upon the first survivor, only wished to learn more about this new and dangerous world, and the man had been an apt, if a terribly accurate teacher. He had told Harry the bare bones of how to survive, but also twelve hours later, a hurt and still reeling Harry had straightened his disheveled clothes, gathered his supplies and left while behind him, the man screamed and then croaked, as Sirius' sharp canines were clamping on his throat.

After that, Harry had been much more attentive with what he wished, treating other survivors, be they alone or in groups, with distrust.

But as the months went by, the days grew colder and the night longer, he yearned for someone to talk to without having to watch his back every second.

And that's when Rick and his group first stumbled upon him.

xxx

Harry had been with them for almost a week when the distrust between then had finally started to thaw. Not that he didn't do what they asked of him, taking sentry shifts during the night, covering their backs when they were on a supply run, or helping whenever it was needed. But he never volunteered and every night he stood a little sideways and away from the group, the dog his only close companion, as if he was always ready to disappear.

It made all the members of the group eye him with various degrees of uneasiness, only the young warming up to him by virtue of having a very large and seemly gentle dog by his side.

"So, what breed is it?" Beth asked while playing with a slightly panting Sirius, while Carl looked on jealously. He too had wanted to go near the dog, but Lori had put her foot down and Rick hadn't actually objected to it. Hershel hadn't seemed too keen either on Beth's idea, if the frequent looks sent their way were any indication, but Beth was old enough to act rebellious and have the guts to push the boundaries.

Of course, it helped that everyone was watching, so it wasn't like Harry could do anything nefarious while Beth was petting his dog. The thought of playing with their minds made him smile, so as matter-of-fact as possible he said, "Black dog."

Most of the people seemed nonplused, except Beth, who stopped her movements and was looking at him with a touch of incredulousness, Hershel, who was narrowing his eyes, and the hunter, Daryl, who was watching him as if he was trying to call him on his bullshit.

Beth just furrowed her brow, as if not certain he was joking or not, "That's impossible."

"Why? Because that's so hard to believe?" Harry said, his face perfectly straight.

"I don't get it." Carl said loudly enough to draw attention, while the others just figured out something else was going on than Harry stating the obvious.

"Spirit dogs. Supposedly seeing one meant you'll die soon." Daryl said calmly and when more than one group member turned to him, eyebrows raised he just shrugged, then hunched his shoulders. "Crazy old lady living in a house near us. Used to tell stories."

But Harry nodded as if the explanation was perfectly acceptable. "That's what most of the stories say. Also if you were to hear one bark, you should close your eyes and run in the opposite way, lest you see it."

"So your dog is an omen of death?" Rick asked, while prodding the fire, to which Harry just shrugged, "The dead are walking, I guess that pretty much trumps all."

It was Glenn who snickered softly and broke the mood by asking about the next day's run, while Daryl muttered "Damn witch doctor," didn't seem to register with the others.

Defiantly, Beth continued to pet Sirius every chance that she had, and eventually Carl too was allowed to come near Harry and his dog.

And then a year later, at Terminus, when Gareth and his people stood between them and freedom, and all hope seemed to have been lost; Sirius got up from where the bullets had put him down, eyes shining brightly, and then let out a bone resonating bark that had the all Terminus people fall down, gripping their ears in irrational terror, while Rick and his group looked on in astonishment. Only Harry's hurried, "Move it!" broke them out of the stupor, and before anyone knew it, the tables were turned on the cannibals.

And that night, after securing the prisoners, burning the dead, and having patched the living, Daryl stood down next to Harry and then, while offering him a bottle of water, asked mildly, "Black dog?", Harry just shrugged and hid a knowing smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black dogs, Grims or hellhounds, if Wiki is to be believed, would signal a person dying soon (within a year at most), if they were to appear in front of them. That's why, should anyone heard a black dog's bark, they were supposed to run away, eyes closed. But there is at least one legend stating one black dog as protector of that region's women and children and one that says black dogs would help lost travelers find their way. Also they are supposed to be formed from the spirits of dead criminals, and they could be pure white (ghost dogs), or green (Cu Sith - fairy dogs).
> 
> P.S. If you are offended by my using Wikipedia as a source of information, feel free to point me to better sources by sending me the links in the reviews. Thank you!
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> Para


	3. Herbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it says completed on the tin, but I just can't seem to shake away Harry and the group from my mind. So I decided on a compromise. I'll treat this story as a series of one-shots, which means that every chapter that I will post in the future might possibly be the last one, so I'm not changing the status. Hopefully nobody has a issue with that. :)
> 
> Thank you for the kudos. You are all AWESOME!
> 
> Warning: Violence towards squirrels, nothing more than the show has given us so far. Also un-betaed, because I wanted to post it before I had the chance to think it through.

 

Chapter 3 - Herbs

Daryl tensed when he felt someone approach him, but never stopped cleaning his kills until whomever they were, started speaking. "Don't skewer them," said Harry placing a small pot full of water in front of Daryl, "when you're done cleaning, just cut them into pieces and put them over the fire. I'll take over from there."

Daryl stopped and frowned at the newest member of their group. The young man always acted as if he was one touch away from leaving at the end of the day, and to have him volunteer to take over the cooking was unexpected. He then looked at the squirrels he was cleaning and shrugged. Two underfed animals for a group of eleven people were not enough and if the Brit knew how to make them more filling, he was up for it. Far too many nights he'd gone to sleep hungry. Daryl nodded, and Harry got up and with a low whistle, he called on Sirius and then disappeared soundlessly into the nearby forest, only Rick watching their exchange with interest from his sentry point. The others were too tired and hungry to care.

"What's he doing?" Rick asked, coming closer.

"Don't know," Daryl shrugged, but instead of preparing the food as always, he got his knife and started to quarter the meat.

Twenty minutes later when Harry came back carrying what looked like roots, leaves, nuts, and frozen berries, Daryl had his first misgivings. Some of the plants the hunter never knew you could eat, which had him asking himself if Harry knew what he was doing. Paying him not much attention after taking over the pot by the fire, Harry dropped his bounty near the merrily bubbling water where small pieces of squirrel were boiling, and with deft moves he started to cut, slice, and dice the herbs while adding them to the pot almost as if he was following a certain order.

Watching from the sidelines the whole time Harry was concentrated on his cooking, Carol could have sworn that Harry was also muttering in something that sounded like Latin, so, the curiosity taking the best of her, she scooted closer to watch everything. Harry sparred her a sideway glance, then taking a spoon, scooped some broth and handed it to her. "See if there's something missing."

Carol, took a sniff before tasting it, catching the smell of moss and leaves, but the taste was surprisingly palatable. Like no other dish she'd tasted before, but good somewhat. "Maybe a bit of salt?" she answered, while Harry nodded and after grabbing his satchel, he took some dried herbs from a zip locked bag and after shredding them, he added them to the mixture. "This will have to do," he said and then raising his head from where he stood crouched near the fire he added with a bit of self-deprecating humor, "I hope you're all hungry." Someone snorted on his right, and Harry smiled in response.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Carol asked, seeing he had finished with the preparations and was willing to let the fire do the rest.

"Had to. Ginny is a wonderful woman, and I love her dearly. But left to her devices, me and the kids would have starved."

"Girlfriend?" T-Dog asked raising an eyebrow.

"Kids?" Glenn added almost incredulous.

"No, wife. And yes, Glenn. Three of them." Harry answered, not looking at where Glenn was huddled next to Maggie.

"Man, but wait. Aren't you like, younger than me?" Glenn looked now fully awake, and his question seemed to rouse the others as well.

"Just how old do you think I am?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Twenty one?" Carl hazarded, when none of the adults hurried to answer.

"Try thirty one. Lads, come on. Do I really look that young?" Harry asked with the sort of defeated annoyance one had after repeating something for the nth time.

Probably his friends used to give him grief about it, thought Rick, seeing the young man in new light, but to be honest he wouldn't have pegged Harry to be older than twenty the first time they've met, either.

Rick shared a look with Daryl, to which the hunter just tilted the head sideways, while the other members of the group tried to pry Harry's secrets. There was no helping it, him being the newest addition, there were still mysteries attached to him, and the talking seemed to take their minds of the hunger. Besides, this was the first time they caught him in a talkative mood. But when Harry announced dinner was ready, almost grateful to escape the interrogation, neither objected to the warm stew filling the bowls each held, even if some wrinkled their nose at the leafy scent.

Daryl took a sniff, then frowned. The stew smelled a bit too earthly and herbal for his liking but his stomach was rumbling in distress, so he decided to try it. The first bite he was hesitant, chewing slowly and ready to spit it out, but the taste, while strange, wasn't bad. The next few spoonfuls were quickly swallowed as his long ignored hunger reared its ugly head, and by the time he was scraping the bowl, a welcomed warmth had spread from his stomach all the way to the tips of his tired fingers.

He was not the one feeling that way, as he noticed that even the perpetually restless Rick was sitting down and enjoying the meal, while Harry looked on with hooded eyes.

The next morning, the stew was still good, even when they didn't bother to warm it up, and the next time they had a respite, Daryl brought the meat he hunted directly to Harry, without having to be asked. Harry didn't seem to mind while he joined the women bustling around the fire.

xxx

"Here," Harry said when the next morning he handed bundle of dried herbs to a startled Lori, "This should help with the nausea and the vomiting." And because the woman had yet to move, he added in a softer tone, "don't worry, they won't affect the baby."

"What?...I…" Lori stammered, looking like a deer caught by car headlights, and Harry's eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline.

"They do know, don't they? It was not a secret." Harry said, while all around them the group had stopped what they were doing and were watching them, something that Harry had been trying to avoid in the first place.

"We did know, but the question is, how did you?" Rick asked, resting his hand casually on his gun strapped to his hip.

"With three kids? You learn to read the signs," Harry answered, seemly not bothered by the tension around him. "Besides, Ginny swore by it, I just wanted to help."

"Thank you," Lori said, finally taking the herbs and breaking the situation that she had helped create. "How do I take this?"

"Boil it with some water, put it in a bottle and take sips through the day." Harry answered easily, then he took his satchel and started moving, the conversation over from his point of view. Hershel, who had been watching intently but had said nothing until then, hurried until he was walking next to Harry, then he asked calmly, "What else do you have in that bag of yours? I only ask because my shoulder's been killing me."

At that, Harry's own shoulders seemed to relax a little, while he started a conversation with the older man on drugs and their herbal equivalent, while around them, the group started to move one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add more in the future or I might not. Let's see what the muse has to say about it. Anyone else excited that there are only two weeks until the beginning of the 5th Season?
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Para


	4. Ready? Set. Action!

"Dammit," Rick swore softly, resisting the urge to lean his head against the window.

They had been desperate. And desperation made them stupid. That's why they haven't stopped looting after the first two houses in this seemly untouched part of a small town, and now they were paying the price. As dusk was settling in, at least fifty walkers had come from nowhere and now they ambled across the roads and yards, cutting them from their van. On a normal day, they could have sprinted to the car in a minute, but swarmed with walkers, the van seemed farther than ever.

"How is it looking?" Glenn asked from where he was sitting near the table, his left foot elevated to relieve the pressure on his swollen ankle. One piece of rotten wood, bad luck, and lack of attention, and he was down for the count.

"Bad," Harry answered, peering on the street from his spot next to some heavy curtains."Really bad." The next moment Daryl came from the back of the house and when Rick turned to him expectantly, the hunter just shook his head. The backyard was also overrun.

"Guys," Glenn started, then stopped, pursed his lips and continued as if he had to get it all out before he changed his mind. "You could make a run for it…and…let me here."

"We're not leaving no one behind." Rick answered through clenched teeth, and after a quick look in Daryl's direction while the hunter half pretended to be interested in what was going outside, he said, "Not anymore. I've learned my lesson."

"Alright," Glenn seemed to deflate with that one word, shoulders relaxing their rigid stance. "But we still need to come up with a plan."

"You're usually the man with the plan." Daryl said from next to one of the windows, crossbow held ready. "So plan."

"Er…we could…I…then we…Dammit! " frustrated Glen seemed to jump from one idea to the other, Rick watching on silently while Harry was looking for something in his bag.

"Or I could go out there and set that yellow house on fire," Harry said calmly causing the others to turn to him in stunned silence.

"What?" Rick asked, wondering if he'd heard him right.

"The yellow house. Two numbers down from here? We've already cleared it, so there won't be any walkers inside. So we set it on fire, and while the walkers go for it, we run."

"Just like that?" Rick shared a confused look with Daryl before addressing Harry, "That only leaves who among us is crazy enough to run over there, make enough noise to attract the walkers and then set the fire himself."

"Ah, but I'm not crazy if I have this," Harry answered shaking a bottle filled with some kind of reddish sludge-like liquid.

"What's that?" Glenn asked, fascinated and repulsed at the same time.

"Walker-repellent juice. Just something I was trying to do in my spare time."

"That's why you kept asking for the weird stuff wheneve' I went huntin' in the woods?" Daryl asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow at the Brit.

"And it works?" Rick asked the important question.

"It should, in theory. Well, no time to test it like the present," and without asking for permission, Harry opened the bottle and dumped it all over himself, then drank what was left. The smell made the others gag slightly, while Daryl started to sneeze uncontrollably. "Smells like camel piss. Tastes like it too," Harry said grinning with stained teeth, not bothered by the other's reaction. Then turning to Daryl he taunted, "Sirius had the same reaction, you know?"

"You callin' me a dog?" eyes watering, Daryl took a threatening step towards Harry, while Rick stepped between them and Glenn said, "Hey! Hey! Come on you guys."

"Stop it, both of you." Rick's quiet authority stilled them, and reminded them of the situation at hand. "Harry, you sure this is going to work?" and after Harry just nodded, Rick said to the others. "Okay. Glens is going to watch you with a rifle from over there, while Daryl and I watch the porch and get ready to run."

"And what about fire? Do you have somethin' in that bag of yours to make it?" anger forgotten, Daryl asked, watching Harry take deep breaths as he readied to go out of the door. "Don't worry about it," Harry waved a careless hand, and then he pointed at something in the yard. "See that big oak tree next to the house? Have the van under it when you're ready to leave. Just, don't leave me behind."

"Here, take this." Rick handed Harry a walkie-talkie. "We'll signal when we're ready to go."

"Right. Well, cheers lads, this will be a walk in the park," Harry said and then quickly left the house, the others closing the door behind him. In front of him the herd of walkers seemed to twitch, almost turning to him as if they could smell dinner but didn't knew where to look for it, but none outright attacked him when he took his last step off the porch.

Harry didn't run, despite every instinct in his body urging him to do just that, and wishing very very hard his magic didn't fail him, he started to cross the street, walking around the bigger walker crowds. He passed one walker close enough to touch it, but it just sniffed him disinterestedly, not moving from its post where it was leaning against a former white picket-fence.

_I can do this,_ Harry thought, dread slowly easing inside him. It was perhaps because of that, that he never foresaw what happened next.

xxx

"He's stopping, why is he stopping?" Glenn muttered increasingly nervous while he tracked Harry's progress on the street. The younger man looked frozen while a child-walker, who looked like once it would have been someone's red-haired little princess, but now was only a disease ridden shell, was walking right at him. "Guys, we might have a problem," Glenn called the others who had been checking the windows next to the front door, and by the time Rick and Daryl crouched where next to him, the walker was almost too close to Harry for anyone to take a shot at it.

"That stupid bastard. I'm gonna beat the shit out of him," Daryl muttered furiously while he grabbed his crossbow and went to a different window that gave him a better perspective. There he wasted no time in reading his arrow, aiming and shooting just in time to kill the walker which had come so close to Harry, it had almost sunken its teeth into a motionless arm. The arrow that pierced its eye seemed to break the spell Harry was under, and the young man turned around jerkily, chest moving rapidly as if he'd been underwater, gaze wildly moving around in search for an attacker. When he realized he was relatively safe, Harry turned and walked over the corpse, not even touching the arrow, and with a small burst of speed he climbed the steps until he was on the porch. There he stood as he screamed at the walkers, "Hey, you wankers! Come over here!", while shooting those who got too close in the head. At once, all the walkers started to moan louder, and driven by their endless hunger, they congregated towards the screaming man, not even deterred by the ones he killed.

"Yes! Come at me!" Harry screamed, one hand firmly latched on the front door. Underneath his fingers the wood started to smoke lightly and change color, as he desperately wished for fire. When the walkers were almost on him he ran in the house, dropping things and tipping chairs behind him while he searched for the staircase.

"There!" he said aloud as he took the first three stairs and then turned to the wall and concentrated on willing it to burn. Around him the grumbling and the moaning was getting louder and louder and just as one walker almost gripped him by his coat, Harry ducked and run up the stairs, leaving behind the wall that was starting to smoke lightly. At the top of the staircase he stopped and started to shoot, all the while wishing that the others would call him to tell him they had made it to the van.

xxx

Rick and Daryl stood next to the door, Glenn draped over Rick's left side, while the hunter prepared his crossbow and knife.

"Ready?" Rick asked, just as soon as they heard Harry cursing the walkers and then shoot at them, Daryl just nodded and swung the door open. There were still walkers out there, stragglers that hadn't run to the yellow house, but between Daryl crossbow and Rick's shooting, they were making good time, despite Glenn hopping along on one foot and almost falling down more than once.

Daryl moved with ease, taking point and killing any walkers that got to close, but unfortunately Rick's gun was drawing more with its noise, and by the time they opened the van, Daryl got in and then dragged Glenn inside, some walkers were almost upon them.

Rick closed the door after Glenn, and then sprinted around the car, shooting one walker in the head when it tried to bite him, then braining another with his knife. He got inside just in time to see other walkers slap the glass ineffectively and then he grabbed his walkie-talkie, "Harry! Get out of there! Now!"

Just as he finished the message a second time white flames surged around the house, the fire seemly springing from nowhere, and for one stunned moment Rick, Glenn and Daryl could only watch helplessly the towering inferno that had been the house where Harry was supposed to be.

xxx

Harry was retreating slowly, using the shotgun to bludgeon any walkers who got to close, remembering from their earlier scouting that the corner room had the easiest access to the porch's roof, when the radio strapped to his belt crackled to life.

"Finally," he muttered and strapped his gun as he made his way to the window ready to get away. With his head out of the window, Harry just felt something grab him by the leg, drag him inside the house and then he fell, his chin meeting the floor with a painful smack. Stunned, he turned slowly only to see a walker sink his teeth into his boot, while more of them tried to squeeze in through the narrow door. Galvanized by terror, he crashed his other heel into the walker's face, smashing it into a pulp with two more hits, and just as another walker was almost upon him he raised his left hand and stupidly screamed, " _Incendio!_ "

He had just one moment to think he was about to die, when something powerful and painful surged from his chest, traveled across his raised hand and out, making all the walkers in vicinity explode into flames. Stunned and more than a little dizzy, Harry just stood there for a moment, until he thought he heard someone call his name. With it, clarity came back, and ignoring everything that was burning, he made his way out of the window, took three hurried steps and then jumped at the oak tree which had been guarding the yard for decades.

Tired and dizzy, instead of the big branch he was aiming at, he broke several smaller ones with his body until he came to a rest unto the lowest of them, hanging just above the walkers' reach. With a strange lassitude taking over him until he had to fight to keep his eyes open, he dangled from the branch, hoping the others hadn't forgotten about him. He almost let it go when a familiar car rumble told him help was coming.

xxx

"Harry! Harry, answer me!" Rick shouted at the walkie-talkie he had in a death grip, while Glenn scanned the surroundings with trepidation.

"Watch the oak tree," Daryl said from inside the van, just when Glenn started to shout with enthusiasm "There! I see him! He's in there!"

That was all that Rick needed, as he turned on the engine with haste. Driving the van in the walkers crowding the tree felt good, and when he got the car under the right branch, he stopped only until he heard a muted thump on the ceiling, then he drove as if hell-hounds were on his tail. A few miles down the road, Rick stopped the car and Daryl stepped out to help a groggy Harry down, who had been holding on the car's roof for dear life. The ride to the camp was far more silent after that, each of them succumbing to an exhausted sleep, except for Rick.

Finally safe in the car, Harry fell asleep immediately, not waking not even when one of them put a blanket over him back at the camp.

They let him sleep like that until morning.

xxx

"So what happened?" Rick asked, as he sat down next to the fire while the man tending it sent him a half-glare.

"I would tell you to drop it, but we both know you'll ask until you get an answer," Harry answered moodily disturbing the burning wood. Rick didn't deny it, or acknowledge it, knowing from his sheriff days that silence was sometimes the best weapon.

Harry sighed, "She looked like someone I used to know. And I know she couldn't be there. I know. But, that walker looked just like her, and I…just…froze."

And then Rick got it. Because he'd heard the younger man talk about his children whenever Carl would get close enough and bored enough to ask personal questions and tales of Lily, the red haired mischief maker of the Potter household had brought a rare smile to many from the group.

"We all have our demons," Rick finally answered and thinking that was all, he got up to leave, only to have Harry stop him. "Rick, I know it's none of my business, but you should talk to Lori sometimes."

Feeling like he'd been punched in the gut, Rick just stood there for a moment, and then he nodded weakly and went to relieve T-Dog of his watch. Not looking back, he never saw Harry looking at him, and then at everyone else with a very pensive expression, then go about his chores in silence.

And Harry never told them that after the first time he had worked direct magic in this world, he'd woken the next morning with the ability to see everyone's second shadow - the one that didn't need the sun to cast it. And for some, namely Lori and T-Dog, it was far blacker than others. Except that Lori had one extra wispy shadow, besides her own.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a bit running out of ideas, so if you want to see something, sent me a message and I'll try to make it into the next chapter. So yes, I guess I'm accepting prompts, but I make no promises about honoring all of them. Just the more interesting ones. :D
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Para


	5. Chapter 5

She wasn't suicidal; she just needed some time alone to deal with the black hole slowly growing inside her, every day she spent on the road. It had gotten so bad she couldn't even swallow the meager food she was given, her stomach rebelling at the thought.

She knew, if she could just cry it out she would feel much better, but she couldn't do it while she was with the group. Compared with how they dealt with what they've lost, what they've all been through, her childish need to have a good cry just seemed petty and unimportant. So she swallowed it, kept it deep inside so that no one could see it.

But she planned for it. She waited until they were in a relatively safe area, no walker spotted for miles, and after the group settled for the evening into an abandoned house, she grabbed a knife, thought about bringing a gun – but that would have got her too many questions – and after telling Maggie she was out for firewood, Beth took to the nearby woods.

After ten minutes of walking, she was already hiccuping with suppressed sobs, and when she stumbled into the small clearing she just went down and started to cry in earnest.

Beth bit her lips, warm tears running down her freezing cheeks. She knew that once it was over she'll be all splotchy and red-faced, but for once she didn't care. Beth let it all out, crying for her lost mother, brother, house, life she'd lost and was never going to get back, and misguided suicide attempt. She cried for the uncertainty she could see in her father's eyes whenever he would gaze at her wrist.

By then the tears were drying and even though nothing had been fixed, and the dead were still dead, for just one moment, Beth felt as if something heavy has slid off her shoulders. She was just calming down, cold water from a nearby creek helping with her swollen eyes, when she heard a twig snap.

Beth fumbled with her knife, catching the hilt in the seam of her jacket before palming it, and by the time she turned around to where the sound had come, the one who made it was only four feet away.

_Stupid,_ she chastised herself. Had he been a walker, she would have been dead by now. Even with him living, she wasn't out of the metaphorical woods. She took a step back when the stranger came closer at which point he slowly raised his hands – a show of defenselessness she didn't buy. His grin was much too predatory, and he was still coming closer.

"Evening, lil lady. Are you alone?" he asked, voice oozing fake charm. She'd seen his ilk before, trying to sell her father one thing or the other, when Hershel was patient enough to listen to their babble before sending them out of the door, sometimes none too politely. But she was not at the farm, but alone in the woods, and probably not in any shouting distance.  _Stupid, indeed_.

Gripping her knife tighter she took a step backwards to put some distance between them, only to realize it was a tactical error when his smirk somewhat subsided, but his eyes gleamed with triumph.

Only then she remembered she should have never shown fear.

"Now, now, don't be like that." He moved one more step, voice dropping slightly.

"How about you take a step back," said a new voice and both Beth and the man whipped their head around only to see Harry standing by the edge of the clearing, shotgun casually held in his hands.

The stranger eyed him speculatively, noting the relaxed but ready look, and straightened in response, all harmlessness suddenly gone.

"That your boyfriend, lil lady?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, as Beth hurried to Harry's side, stopping slightly behind him.

"I don't think that's your business," Harry answered, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Yet from behind him, Beth could see his tensed shoulders and the hard way he gripped the gun.

"I reckon I can make it mine," the other man answered, hand slowly moving to his belt where a gun was stashed.

"I really don't see how," Harry responded, arming the shotgun.

The other man sneered, "You and who else?"

"Just me and my dog," Harry grinned all teeth, and on cue a deep growl sounded behind the other man, making him almost jump. Fast, he turned around, only to freeze when he saw Sirius, hackles raised, standing right behind him.

_Strange, but she never saw him coming in the clearing_ , Beth thought, almost as startled by Sirius as the stranger had been. And why did it seem for just one moment that there were too many shadows around the dog?

"Holy shit, what you've been feeding it?" the visitor asked, taking a step away from the growling menace.

"Rabbit, deer and the occasional straggler," Harry said, malicious smile fully in place. Then he gestured with his gun to make the guy move along, and after one narrowed and spiteful look, the stranger did just that, taking to the forest.

"Sirius, make sure he's not a threat," Harry called, and the black dog went after it, the shadows swallowing him almost completely.

Threat nullified, Harry turned to Beth, "Are you alr…" only to find himself with an armful of sobbing teen clutching at his jacket while she babbled nonsensically.

For a long moment, he was just lost; he never knew what to do when Ginny cried, except for holding on and hope she'll recover, so moving slowly, Harry hugged her loosely, while scanning the woods around them. Just because Beth was distraught, didn't mean that the world had taken a break.

Leaves softly whistling as they brushed against something caught his attention, only for things to get to a whole new level of awkward when Daryl came close to the clearing and stopped at the sight of them. The hunter didn't say a thing, his narrowed eyed stare speaking for him, but in the end he just lowered his crossbow and nodded to Harry before disappearing between the trees as well.

Having finally stopped crying, Beth slowly let go, suddenly overcome with shyness. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, finding a place on the forest floor particularly fascinating.

Harry just sighed, but didn't press on. He just gave her a cleanish handkerchief and then moved slowly in the camp's direction, "Come, the others will be worried. Also, it might be a good thing to learn to use that thing," he said pointing in the direction of the useless knife she was still clutching like a lifeline.

Feeling like she'd been given a reprieve, Beth blushed and mumbled her thanks and then followed him back to the camp. There she did her best to dodge her sister's questions and her father's concerned stare. That night, for the first time in a very long time she felt almost hollow.

_For her_ , she thought as she drifted slowly to unconsciousness,  _it was actually an improvement_.

xxx

That night, Harry stood on their temporary refuge's slowly rotting porch for a long time even after almost everyone had fallen prey to sleep.

After that evening he realized he'd been lulled into a false sense of security, they all had, with their dodging the walkers with no casualties and forgetting there were other live people out there. And those could be worse that the dead ones.

What they needed, he thought, turning around and eying his slumbering companions, gaze moving slowly from one huddled form to another, until they stopped for a long time on the younger members of their group, was a place they could defend for a longer period of time.

_A fortress_.

He knew that Rick thought the same, having seen the man critically look at the abandoned house where they were in, only to sigh in defeat after a while. A place with strong walls and fences, that's what they needed, so he  _wished_  for it, harder than he'd done it for awhile now.

"Come in, you're lettin' all the heat out," Daryl said from where he was curled up next to the window. The hunter would be taking the last watch, but he'd already settled his bedding in place. From outside, he was almost invisible.

Shaking his head at the joke, Harry then nodded and got up with ease, silently moving to the corner he'd selected as his own. He'd be cold that night, colder than usual with Sirius on the hunt. He just hopped Sirius had enough sense not to get shot.

And right in that moment, the night vibrated with a distant thunder like bark, which had Rick waken with a start, Daryl tense and T-Dog clench nervously at his weapon from his guard point. They all stood alert for awhile, only Harry looking unconcerned as he curled around in his blanket and drew his hoodie over his head.

His actions got him a few raised eyebrows, but when nothing else happened for the next few minutes, everyone just settled down once again.

xxx

The moon had set, the shadows deeper than ever just before before dawn, when Daryl thought he saw something coming across the field from them. For a brief moment it looked like man, tall, skinny, dressed in a long coat, and then the shadows shifted and the vision disappeared, only to have the familiar shape of Harry's dog coming closer to their hideout.

The dog climbed the stairs, stopped in front of the closed door and then looked directly to where Daryl was spying it, sprawled next to a curtain. How the dog had known he was there, he couldn't tell, he'd made sure he was invisible from outside, and at the moment he was also too comfortable to get up and open the door. Sirius didn't bark, or scratch at the door, but tilted its head in a surprisingly human expression of amused questioning, and Daryl sighed and got up.

"You're weird, you know that?" he told the dog softly, as it padded silently across the room and curled around his sleeping master. Harry didn't even wake up, he just adjusted his head and when back to softly snoring, body slowly loosing the tension he'd carried even in his sleep. As if he knew that they were going to be better.

And then, three days later, Rick and Daryl came back from hunting empty handed, but looking more pleased than Harry had seen them in a long time. They had found a prison in their path and they were planning on conquering it.

_A place with strong walls and fences indeed_ , Harry thought ruefully, as he went to take a weapon and to listen to the plan, while the other survivors around him were buzzing with cautious excitement.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This might be it for awhile, since I've really ran out of ideas. Probably a third (fourth?) viewing of the 3rd and 4th season might spark something. But I have a confession to make: I completely and utterly loathe the Governor, to the point I can barely stand to watch him during the episodes where he's in. I don't know why I have this visceral reaction, and congrats to the actor for making it happen, but it's really killing my muse. Not that she's been very reliable.
> 
> Oh, and I've recently started to read the comics. Bottom line, I like the show better (don't kill me), but maybe that's because I've seen it first. And it has Daryl. :D


	6. The end, for now

"Wingardium leviosa," Harry said, hand outstretched in front of him. The hawk feather twitched a little, but never rose from the ground, making it impossible to determine if it had been his magic, or just the fetid breeze stirring things up in the watch tower. The stench of the rotting meat was one of the first things he'd grown accustomed to; they all had, but it was days like this, when a dull pain kept throbbing at his temples, and his skin itched as if covered with a thousand ants, that he could smell it once again.

Today's results were disappointing. He'd been holed in the watch tower remembering his spells since morning, because ever since that  _Incendio_  had shown him that active spell casting was still within his reach, he'd started practicing whenever he could, but half of the incantations he'd tried never did anything, and the ones that worked were too powerless to count.

Harry sighed, letting his head rest against the wall behind him, one hand shielding his eyes. He had no idea why it was so bloody difficult to cast spells. It was as if his body was against him, or better, too new and unused to magic to channel it properly. Not for the first time he questioned whether death had made him a new body when had cast him into this world, or had just taken one that was available and put his soul into it.

Or maybe he was just losing his mind. It seemed the trend within the group, starting with their rapidly deteriorating leader.

At that thought, Harry lowered his hand and gazed outside, searching the perimeter of the prison's outer court. Movement caught in the corner of his eye had him twitching with the rifle in his hands until he realized that the slowly moving figure was none other than Hershel. He watched the old man shuffle through the grass until Hershel was nearing a portion of the fence where there weren't any walkers, and only then Harry realized what was happening.

Rick was out there, searching for his sanity in the middle of the walkers, and Hershel was trying to guide him back.

Harry shook his head slowly, partially because of the headache and partially because of what he'd thought about that. They were falling apart, as a group, ever since they entered the prison, and not for the first time, he questioned himself, what was he still doing there, with them? After Rick had lost it when Lori died, to the surprise of everyone - even though they could have seen it coming - Harry had been his shadow in the dark halls of the prison while a grief possessed Rick wreaked his vengeance on the walkers trapped inside. Silent and deadly, Harry had kept himself a few paces behind, finishing off any walker that was still moving after Rick went through them. Even then he was thinking of leaving, of taking Sirius and just disappearing into the night, because ever since they've entered the prison, Sirius wouldn't come inside, and Harry keenly missed him every night when the dog's comforting presence wasn't keeping the nightmares at bay.

And then Rick seemed to get better, acknowledged Judith as his daughter, and Harry thought,  _yes this was it;_  I  _can go now_ , only to have Glenn and Maggie missing on a supply run, and half the group going away for their rescue. He'd stayed behind at the prison during that time; someone had to protect the ones who were most vulnerable in their group, but that didn't help him understand why they had come back without Daryl – Rick wasn't talking about it – and why the cop was falling into a thousand pieces.

Hershel stopped when he'd reached the fence and was talking to Rick, and their exchange sparked Harry's curiosity. But, in the tower Harry was too far away to make out what was being said, making him feel more keenly the lack of his spells.

_A listening charm would have been good right about then._

And with that his thoughts went back to his magic and all the changes he'd observed in the last few weeks. Some of them were beneficial for his survival, as his newly discovered sense for the walkers. He knew, that if he concentrated enough, he could tell when walkers were near him, like getting too close to something frozen and having the cold radiating back to him. It was strange and it felt wrong and slimy, whenever he thought about it, but it was the best warning system he'd had in the current situation. But the other developments, he was not too keen on them.

_If only he had realized what the shadows meant_ , he thought, maybe Lori and T-Dog might have still been alive. Not that was the only shit that was happening to him. It started when he cradled Judith in his arms for the first time. The baby smiled, content, but Harry had frozen for a long moment. The others had put it down to him missing his children and with alacrity; Beth had come near them and took her away, while cooing at the babbling baby. But the thing was; none of the others were seeing what Harry had been seeing, and still was seeing every time he went to sleep.

Death in every scenario possible, hundreds of them, each involving Judith somehow. In some of them, and those were the kind ones; she was an old woman, but still strong as she stood in front of a nameless danger, every inch of her, her father's daughter. In others, she was a young adult, or a teenager, running away from a herd of walkers, or worse humans. But in the vast majority of them, she was still a toddler or a baby, while walkers ended her life. Those were the ones that had him waking up gasping for breath and wanting to throw up. Because in each of them, there was a shadow of a man, starting the events that led to her death.

And that there was the point, Harry realized, because he could never walk away when there were innocents needing him. And he would do anything in his power to protect them; he vowed even as a new spike of pain rattled his head, when light glinting off something hit him directly in the eye. Tired after several restless nights, Harry didn't react other than wincing, until the sound of gunfire chased away the mental cobwebs and had him scrambling with his semi-automatic.

The rifle felt strange in his hands, half of his shots going wildly as he returned fire to someone who was shooting the cement where Carol had hidden behind a downed body. Harry didn't have the time to think about it as he kept shooting, and when a second burst of gunfire forced the shooter to slow down, he caught a glance of Carol running to safety.

_Some spells would have really come in handy_ ; Harry thought while rapid gunfire drowned the sound of everything else, until a reinforced vehicle crashed through their fence and stopped in the middle of the prison's outer court. Harry shot at it, almost growling with rage. The car had a door opening in the back, walkers shuffling through as the armored driver exited the car and started running. He didn't get too far as a black shape tackled from behind and the guy's terrified screaming mingled with the sound of gunfire.

"Good boy," whispered Harry vindictively, just as he tried to shoot another walker. It was then that a burst of gunfire caught his attention, and he saw two figures outside a car directing the fight. One of them, in particular, made his blood ran cold as an icy fury gripped him.

He knew that man; he had seen him in too many nightmares, until Harry had started to hate his one-eyed stare almost as much as he had hated Voldemort a long time ago.

Suddenly, the battle ceased to matter, as his whole attention went to the man grinning while shooting his automatic. Harry never saw the walkers cornering Rick, or the Dixon brothers' timely save, nor did he see Michone carve the walkers with her katana. His whole attention was on the one he would later found out was called the Governor, as he took his rifle, settled it as stable as possible and aimed it carefully.

_Take a deep breath, exhale and then shoot,_ Rick's voice instructed from the back of his mind, while Harry pointed the rifle with steady hands and razor sharpen focus.

_Inhale._

Harry never noticed his hands glowing faintly acid green and then the glow spreading like static until it covered the entire rifle.

_Exhale._

The target was in sight.

_Pause._

Harry took the shot.

_**The end.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven years ago, I posted my first ever chapter on a fanfiction site. It was a beginner's effort, filled with awkward phrasing, too many link words and not enough punctuation. Ever since then, I like to think I've grown as a writer and as a person, so it's fitting that today I'm posting the final chapter for a story of mine. Yes, after careful consideration I've decided that Lost and found has run its course, and if I were to give this crossover section its due justice, I should embark in a more serious writing effort.
> 
> So in the light of the brilliant suggestions I've received for the last chapter, I've decided to write a proper story, not a collection of one-shots, in which I will have the opportunity to develop both the characters and the plot, and not give out key elements of the plot line too early in the story. (In my defense, when I wrote those tidbits, there wasn't supposed to be anything after them.)
> 
> That's why, this is it. The final one-shot, which, as you'll be able to see, is setting the scene nicely for the story brewing in my mind ever since I've talked by PM with some of you. Enjoy for now, and come back in February. I'll have a first chapter ready by then for And Lost Again (working title; I'm accepting suggestions. )


End file.
